So Far Away
by xxhorriblemusicianxx
Summary: Devon is feeling shattered by his brother's accidental death-will he be able to overcome the crushing grief and crippling guilt in time to save his sanity?


__**A/N: Ryan Kelley played Devon Bancroft in "Life on the Line." Of course, I had to write about it. I'm not sure if this will be a one-shot, or if it'll develop into a piece that investigates Devon from this moment up until past the end of the episode, but I'll have to see how inspired I feel. Hopefully, I'll be inspired to write more! Sorry this is so short. Reviews always appreciated.  
**

_Slash! Squealing like fingernails on a chalkboard, the blades jerked and bucked as they ripped across the hidden stone, tipping the lawn mower over. Devon felt his balance slowly leave him, and the sky turned on its side as he was violently thrown off the mower. The weight that had been pressing on his shoulders with such small hands was ominously absent. Where was Josh? Josh? With a sickening, wet crunch, the air was suddenly full of blood and screams of pain and terror. Josh?_

Devon's heart leapt into his throat as he bolted upright in bed, almost banging his head on the bottom of his roommate's mattress above. Dragging in a shuddering breath, he glanced to the right and blinked tears out of his eyes. Red lights blinked back at him: 2:45. _2:45. Two hours of sleep_. Wiping the tears from his cheeks, Devon lowered himself back onto his mattress and drew the covers back up to his neck. In the dark, it was so hard to keep out Josh's bloodied, ravaged face. It was impossible to block the crushing grief and the crippling guilt when there was no light to chase the ghosts out of the dark corners of the room.

Closing his eyes brought no relief—the smell of death was still cloyingly sweet in his nose, and the image of Josh's broken body seemed seared into the back of Devon's eyelids. Gritting his teeth, Devon curled into a fetal position, his body painfully taut. He screwed his eyes shut. _Sleep,_ he thought. _I need sleep, please._ But the sound of the mower seemed to reverberate in the depths of his bones, shaking him to the core.

Thoughts plagued his mind, attacking from all directions. Devon groaned, pressing his long fingers shakily against his ears as if he could possibly block out the screams that repeated in his head like a broken record. He could feel a headache coming on slowly. Probably would turn into a migraine if he didn't stop it now.

Staggering to his feet, he stumbled out of bed and navigated his way down to the bathroom he and his roommate, Raymond, shared with two other college students. By the time Devon's trembling fingers had sought out the little pills, his head was screaming at him, the keening pain blending with the agonized echoes of his brother's terror. The noise was overwhelming.

As Devon dropped the yellow bottle back in his black tote, he dragged his eyes to the mirror. Unrecognizable, a gaunt skeleton-like face gazed dully back at him. There were dark circles under the eyes, and a deep furrow between the brows. It was a haunted face, and it fit Devon's state of mind perfectly, but he still couldn't believe it was his face.

"Devon?" Raymond's sleepy voice came from behind him, and Devon flinched, his eyes darting into the darkness behind him. "You alright in there, man?"

"Yeah," Devon croaked, wincing as the effort shot a streak of pain into his forehead. "Sorry."

Apparently he hadn't been convincing enough because he heard the rustling of Raymond's covers and the muffled thud of his feet on the floor. In a second, Raymond's concerned face peered around the door.

"You look like shit," he said, not unkindly. Devon stared at him. "Nightmare?"

Devon nodded, supporting himself against the sink with both arms. Lightheadedness threatened to overwhelm him. Many more nights of little sleep would soon kill him just as surely he had killed Josh. _Don't think about that!_

"Come on, Devon," Raymond said, his voice suddenly gentle.

Devon felt a soft pressure at his shoulder, trying to turn him away from the sink. He grunted and held on stronger—he felt like he was about to throw up, but Raymond was firm.

"Time to go back to bed," Raymond cajoled.

_Yeah, to stare at the wall for another four hours until it's time to get up and pretend that I can handle it? _But Devon let himself be eased back into his bed. With an uncharacteristic show of kindness, Raymond draped a cool cloth against Devon's forehead. Devon sighed, relaxing his guard fractionally.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Raymond whispered.

The words seemed to hang in the stillness of the night. Devon said nothing, frowning. _Do I? Do I really want to tell anybody?_ The quiet stretched out louder and louder. _No_. Silence was all he had.


End file.
